Monday, May 7, 2007


[A nobleman's vista at dusk. A number of PRAETORIAN GUARDS, including the PLAIN PRAETORIAN, have just ransacked the estate. Several of the inhabitants lay dead or dying on the marble patio at the entrance, where the GUARDS are.]
PLAIN PRAETORIAN: [Prodding a badly-wounded servant, who spasms meekly and weakly on the ground. To the other GUARDS.] This one stirs.
FIRST GUARD: [In regards to a corpse that has been torched; mockingly and sarcastically. In reply to the PLAIN PRAETORIAN.] And this one burns!
SECOND GUARD: [Part of the mockery and jest; pointing to a body that hangs from an overhead arch, by noose. In further reply.] And this one turns! It swings! It sways! It rings in dead-tones and dead-flesh moans! Stench!
CAPTAIN: [To the SECOND and FIRST GUARDS.] Stay your words. [To the PLAIN PRAETORIAN.] Be his savior; slay the servant. We operate on a mercy absolute: oblivion.
[The CAPTAIN exits, moving deeper into the vista.]
FIRST GUARD: [Continuing the CAPTAIN's statement.] From our own position, of course.
[The FIRST GUARD exits, in pursuit of the CAPTAIN.]
SECOND GUARD: Though coarse, regardless of their condition; a meridian of pity and compassion.
[The SECOND GUARD exits, following the others. The PLAIN PRAETORIAN watches after them, watching over the crippled, dying man at his foot.]
PLAIN PRAETORIAN: [To the servant.] Like the hounds we employed to hunt you. They enjoyed the hunt and chase, hardly-chaste as they are. [Noticing the man's wretched state.] You, at my greaves: do not grieve. For you, I will bereave, reap, weep, and weave.
[The PLAIN PRAETORIAN slides his blade into the torso of the mortal servant. The servant expels anguish from his throat.]
PLAIN PRAETORIAN: [In thought.] That was not enough to kill you. The tip can only rip and unwrap your skin, and promulgate your sin. I will press for more. [The PLAIN PRAETORIAN leans upon the blade slightly.] But my weight-- how much? And I wait-- how long for you to die? Shall this blade be dirtied by soil and soul, or soiled by blood alone; sold to the killing hand?
[The PLAIN PRAETORIAN leans heavily on his sword, and the servant exhales and expires. The PLAIN PRAETORIAN tries to pull his blade from the body of the man, but it has punctured too far, and is now stuck between the marble slabs of the patio. He shrugs and prepares to delve further into the estate, but turns and observes the dead.]
PLAIN PRAETORIAN: [To the smoldering corpse.] You gray. [To the hanging corpse.] You sway. [To the once-stirring servant.] You lay.
[The PLAIN PRAETORIAN thinks for a moment, then smiles briefly and subtly.]
PLAIN PRAETORIAN: [To them all.] I will not stay, or even pray for you. You have been hounded and saved. [He exits.]

Eh. Not the best, but it's practice. I'm really tired, though, and it's really late, so I suppose I'll just analyze and explain in the (later) morning.